Ailing Wood Poem by Riano Harp

The adolescent in robes of Jamaican lude,
Strip him! Strip him!
Futility reigns, the heavens beckon
For their lost creature of beguile.
Nothing is lost, I am lost;
Still...I see marble banquets and stiff mirages
Floating in the hue of my eyes
- Fucking disgust! Discover me like a virgin
And a race lost in genocide.
Surely, I cannot see such anger;
Ferocity beckons in the euphemisms of the sink-
I am called by duty.
Never forget me, I'll be ever in your memory
In roots, worms, air and robes of ailing wood.